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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185600">Rescue Strike</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvan/pseuds/Sylvan'>Sylvan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Highlander: The Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:29:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvan/pseuds/Sylvan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Highlander Holiday ShortCuts 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rescue Strike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/gifts">Raine_Wynd</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     He was Carl McCormick now. An ode to Carl Robinson, and calling himself the nephew of Matthew McCormick, dead twenty years ago. It was a bit close, but he had chosen to accept the risk. A little makeup to take off the years, wide-eyes and a slight gambol to his walk, and a heavy reliance on not being anywhere near the men and women he had worked with day in and day out until the end of the century. And the ability of mortals to talk themselves out of what they see. And yet, this year...</p><p>     He adjusted his black facemask with a wry, invisible smile. Doctor Ruth Garibaldi and her two startlingly young-looking interns were waiting in his office. It would be a bit of a show. Doctor Garibaldi would need to convince him if they were to converse outside of his business hours about the greater secrets they knew. They had parted badly, the last time. He and Grace Chandel. Whatever reason she had come and made this appointment, he would hear her out at the least. He would not be unfair to her, however much he thought her unfair to others.</p><p>     He came in range and was only a little surprised. There were at least two Immortals in his office. Young-seeming assistants indeed. Mask or not, he controlled his expression and opened the door, walking inside. Grace stood as he entered, and her interns stood with her, eyes on him alert. He had seen their pictures, and despite the masks, could also see their young skin. If both were Immortal, they had probably come into their heritage in their mid-teens.</p><p>     "Agent McCormick," Ruth né Grace greeted him. "I'm terribly sorry, but we have to talk with you."</p><p>     "Doctor Garibaldi," he countered without warmth, though he kept his tone neutral. "What can the FBI do for you today?" He gestured for his three guests to sit back down. They did, all three of them radiating anxiety.</p><p>     Grace looked at him over her own off-white mask, fabric patterned with lovely, delicate flowers he did not recognize. Her eyes were deep and sad, as he thought sometimes they always were. Her fingers twined restlessly in her lap. She took a long, deep breath, and let it out gently. "Agent McCormick, these young people are Laila and Toby Soto. They escaped from a cult twelve days ago and want to bring it down. There are... there are fifteen other young people -" and here she emphasized her next two words, "- just like them, still trapped there."</p><p>     Matthew felt restless himself now. He fixed his gaze on the two. They did not, of course, look enough alike to be easily mistaken for the siblings their files had claimed them to be. Nineteen-year old college students, so the records said. "What is this cult, and how long has it been around?" He leaned on his Southern twang. It was his favorite accent.</p><p>     Laila and Toby both flicked their gazes uneasily towards Grace, who remained focused on him. Her gaze pleaded with him. Toby cleared his throat and answered, "It doesn't have any religious designation. It's not a church, I mean not like a real cult. It's... It's been around for a century. More of a compound. On a small island off the Florida coast. That's why there're so many of us."</p><p>     Matthew would have gritted his teeth, had it been any good to do so. "What does the leader do? Take children to the island and keep them there until they're old enough to be pressed into service?"</p><p>     The pair glanced at each other, and Matthew knew it was more complicated, or perhaps more simple.</p><p>     Laila said quietly, "He doesn't bring children. Just adults. Usually young adults he matchmakes. He always takes the children away from them immediately at birth, and leaves them exposed to the elements for a... a few days. Then he returns the ones who survive." Her gaze was fixed, so was Toby's. Grace's was not fixed but keen with distress.</p><p>     Toby took up the narrative. "When he finds a special baby, he has that one raised to be his servant. He likes to keep them young."</p><p>     That was like a jolt to Matthew. "And their parents?"</p><p>     "He never keeps track of -" an emphasis on the next word, "- their parents."</p><p>     Matthew bared his teeth behind his mask. He thought a minor curse at Grace, for this was definitely something that would have to be discussed outside of mortal hearing. "Alright," he said calmly. "Why, though, are you here?"</p><p>     Laila lifted her head, tears in her eyes. "It's been years since he's chosen any new special babies. I think he's decided to kill everyone off."</p><p>     Decades, Matthew thought. Not years. "Forty years, would you say?" he asked in a patently false light tone.</p><p>     All three of them looked startled. Laila and Toby exchanged glances and seemed unable to decide what to say. Then finally Laila said, "I couldn't say if it was more."</p><p>     Grace's brows had furrowed and she was looking at him with surprise, then to Laila and Toby.</p><p>     Now was not the time. Matthew started recording the interview. There was a moment during it when they all felt a faint susurration and studiously did not react except with meaningful looks at each other. "Call me Carl," he had told them. He had eased up as the details had been explained to him. This seemed real. During the talk, he had garnered from their indirect phrasing that Laila had been sixteen, and Toby nearly seventeen, when the Immortal who called himself Alonso Soto had killed them to set off their Immortality.</p><p>     He accepted most of what they said, but long experience made him wonder if this were a honey trap, luring unsuspecting Immortals trying to be heroes in order to take their heads. Either Alonso Soto, or Laila and Toby themselves. What lent validity to their story, though, was that one important detail. No new special babies in at least four decades. This was consistent with something he had begun to notice in the last twenty years. Now, though, it took on greater weight. He had Grace's contact information and would be getting back to her later, but not through Agency channels.</p><p>     He picked up his private cellphone and began dialing several old friends. To each, after greetings and sometimes apologies for the time difference passed, he asked the same question. "How old is the youngest of us you know?" No one mentioned a ten-year old named Kenny, to his relief. Even more, no one failed to answer his call.</p><p>     The susurration came again. Carl né Matthew adopted a slouched pose, started to lean his chin on his hand, and when the knock came said, "It's open!" and amused himself pretending to be frustrated because he was not supposed to touch his facemask.</p><p>     Agent Domingo swung in, strong, confident, very tall, and someday, probably soon, forever in his forties. At least so long as he kept his head. Also very, very interested. "What've we got, Agent McCormick?"</p><p>     Matthew smiled behind his mask. "A cult that's not a cult, boss. Waiting for data on the man, but this Alonso Soto, possibly from Argentina, lures or kidnaps people from some indefinable criteria, spirits them away to his island, and makes them have kids."</p><p>     "Takes their newborns, exposes them to the elements, and returns the survivors. I heard that. Keeps a few for his harem."</p><p>     Raphael Domingo, informally known as Rafe, had never been one to mince words.</p><p>     Rafe continued, "But he's stopped recently, and these two escapees think he's going to kill everyone off to make sure he's not exposed. Why would he stop?"</p><p>     Ah, he had not eavesdropped on the entire interview, then. Matthew stopped himself from rubbing his chin and exchanged wry glances with Rafe. "The kids think it's because too many of the parents whose babies didn't come back haven't swallowed the Kool-Aid, and they've started fighting back."</p><p>     That was not what the kids thought at all, but he could not tell Rafe and he would have to wait for a less constrained interview with Laila and Toby. Thank you for this, Grace. Why couldn't you have approached me privately? He knew why. There were more than Alonso Soto's fifteen Immortals, the youngest of whom was apparently over forty, to consider. A century this man had been collecting people, taking their newborns in a search for Immortals. From what Laila and Toby had said, the effort had not produced traceable parentage for Immortals, but foundlings had still popped up. Not on doorsteps, either, but in whatever places Soto chose to leave infants. He kept himself from drumming his fingers, as Rafe was observing him keenly.</p><p>     "Are you going to try and handle this yourself, Carl?" Rafe asked, leaning against the doorjamb.</p><p>     Matthew shook himself, and then shook his head. A few hundred people, they had said. They did not have an exact count. "Not for all of them. Maybe just for the kids, though. I'm going on leave."</p><p>     Raphael Domingo's eyebrows shot up, almost comical over the FBI facemask. "We'll talk," he said, eyes boring into Matthew's.</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     The plane belonged to Cory Raines. Matthew had fond memories of when the rogue still went by Corwin a'Green. 1285 had been a good year, in part because of that irreverent, fun-loving student. He flew it in partnership with another Immortal, Michelle Webster, who told Matthew she had died in a car accident when she was eighteen, in 1994, when he asked. No surprise there. Well, one surprise, when she said she was from Seacouver. That brought Derek straight to her, as he was also from Seacouver.</p><p>     Derek had been Carl Robinson's student while he still lived in Tahiti. He was about Michelle's age, but had met his first death two years later. Matthew found himself shut out, as the two bonded instantly. They were both beautiful young Immortals, and almost the same age as Raphael Domingo, who had not come into his Immortality yet. Matthew excused himself with a feeling of bemused detachment and took a seat closer to the cockpit.</p><p>     Grace sat down next to him. He gritted his teeth and shot her a frustrated look. She met his gaze calmly. "So, you have also noticed."</p><p>     Startled, he asked, "Noticed what?"</p><p>     "There have been no new Immortals."</p><p>     His resentment lifted slightly, and he agreed with a slight nod. "I haven't come across any in decades."</p><p>     "Toby and Laila told me there were five in the Seventies. None after."</p><p>     "It is the time of the Gathering."</p><p>     "They've said that since the Nineties." Grace sounded intransigent.</p><p>     Anger rose in him again, though he tamped it down. He fixed her with a glare. "Why are you coming? You'll only be in the way, and we'll have to protect you."</p><p>     Her expression flitted between startled and amused, then settled down to a level, peaceful gaze. "I can take care of myself."</p><p>     "Yarro lost his head protecting you."</p><p>     She answered him calmly enough, but her expression turned sad and she blinked back tears. "I begged him not to. He wouldn't listen."</p><p>     "He couldn't leave you in danger, so he fought for you."</p><p>     The tears spilled, but she kept her face controlled and her voice only sounded slightly choked. "I know."</p><p>     "Go to Holy Ground. Stay there. Stop being out in the world where good men will lose their heads for you!"</p><p>     "Matthew," she said very gently, "I can't stay on Holy Ground. It would be wrong, and only cut me off from the world and everyone in it." She reached out and took his hands between hers, cradling them gently. He was about to get intransigent himself when she said, "Matthew, I have been immortal for over six-hundred years. Do you honestly believe I have never faced another of us determined to take my head? I've had many encounters."</p><p>     He blinked, frowned, blinked again. "You told me you'd never taken a Quickening."</p><p>     "That's true."</p><p>     He stared down at her, frowning deeply. "So how many people have taken Quickenings to protect you?"</p><p>     "Not very many," she said humbly. "I'm usually alone at the time."</p><p>     "Then how is it you still have your head?" he growled.</p><p>     She sighed. Then she took a deep breath and pulled her right hand from his and swept it past her hip and held it palm up. Across that palm lay a stiletto. She looked at it thoughtfully. "I used to carry misericordes. Then I spent some years in Sicily."</p><p>     She vanished the blade and met his startled gaze. Her eyes twinkled. "I can take down a man before he even knows I have a weapon. Then I roll him face down and tie a ribbon around his neck. For some reason, no one has ever told tales about me."</p><p>     He hesitated. "And women?"</p><p>     "And women," she replied with some sadness.</p><p>     He glanced back at the four young Immortals, who were now laughing together. "Do those two know?"</p><p>     She laughed softly. "No."</p><p>     "Do you teach your students Paranza Corta?"</p><p>     "A few of them. For most, I never get the chance. So many want to fight with swords."</p><p>     "Why do you let everyone believe you are helpless?" and he could not keep the outrage out of his tone.</p><p>     "I do not let anyone believe I am helpless," she said calmly. "I only offer no threat at all. It works quite well."</p><p>     He remembered how pleasant his first meeting with her had been. She was utterly calm, demonstrated wry humor, and they became friends easily. She had indeed offered no threat, and he had responded in kind. "Why show me now, then?"</p><p>     He knew the answer even as she said it. "We are on a rescue mission. I won't be a distraction for you if you aren't worried about my safety."</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     Cory brought them to the marina where a yacht awaited them. Much to Matthew's surprise and even some joy, the owner had an old and familiar face. Amanda Montrose, or she had been the last time they met. She greeted him with an irreverent grin, Grace with a warm hug, and had a cry of utter delight for Michelle. For a moment they were all struck, as the three hugged each other, laughing. Amanda bridged the gap for Michelle and Grace, who had met for the first time on the trip here, by being their common ground.</p><p>     "Do you all know each other?" Toby asked. Laila looked equally curious.</p><p>     It was Cory who answered him with a laugh. "Nah! Matt only met ‘chelle and Derek today. We all jus' have friends in common."</p><p>     "But..." Toby started hesitantly.</p><p>     Cory hooked his thumb at Matt. "He was my teacher, back in the day. He knows me, I know Michelle, Michelle knows Amanda, Amanda knows Grace, Grace knows you!"</p><p>     Laila asked, "And Derek?"</p><p>     Cory hesitated, then threw the question to Matthew.</p><p>     "I know Derek's teacher," Matthew clarified.</p><p>     Cory stage whispered, cupping his hands in front of his mouth, "He's the teacher's teacher."</p><p>     They had talked on the flight, Toby and Laila. Matthew recalled that conversation too clearly. Laila had begun shaking her head as Derek was speaking of some of his friends.</p><p>     "We never knew there were other Immortals. We didn't know we were Immortals."</p><p>     Derek had jerked to attention in surprise, then eased down into the seat next to her. Despite his height and muscled frame, he had a remarkable way of being non-threatening. He looked into Laila's wounded gaze. "Did he tell you he was God and had brought you back to life?"</p><p>     The two stared at him, startled. Finally, Toby said, "That's exactly what he did."</p><p>     Laila added, "We're the oldest. When he stopped m - finding new Immortals, he started to get strange and scary. Then one night he took Sherry's head. She was the youngest of us. It was terrifying! We fled to the neighboring island, to a mission, and there was Grace. We thought he'd come after us, but instead it was a strange woman, and she was amazing, and kind, and so human!"</p><p>     Matthew realized that this was exactly what Grace and Michelle had been explaining to Amanda, who said suddenly, "That one needs killing." There was no sign in this moment of any humor from her, only a black anger that shone in her eyes. She directed her question to him. "I understand we can expect some FBI presence there?"</p><p>     He nodded. He had told Raphael Domingo that he would be leading a special extraction team to rescue the fifteen young people, taking advantage of the distraction caused by the FBI raid in order to get them to safety. Rafe had not been pleased. Had told him privately that it was only their long association that enabled him to trust Carl when he was so patently keeping secrets. Matthew had thought to himself that it was best if he could keep away from Rafe. It was not good to come into your heritage too old. He had to be nowhere near when Rafe's time came, so that it could come.</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     It was the dead of the night. Matthew's earphones picked up the signal from the FBI assault. His own group he split into teams. He and Grace went in through the main entrance with Toby and Laila. Cory and Amanda were going in together via the roof, Michelle and Derek were going in through the back of the building. Trusting, but with caution, to the information about the layout of the mansion, the plan was to have them arrive simultaneously from three sides, which would leave other Immortals without a clear idea of how many were approaching. The mansion did not normally have guards inside the walls, which had security cameras evenly distributed.  Amanda and Cory had already taken control of the feeds from the cameras, which were now looping. With control and access, they found Alonso Soto in the north wing with a group of men outside what Laila and Toby said was entrance to the harem suite. The group of men were carrying equipment.</p><p>     It was Cory who said, "They're locked out. They're trying to get in without damaging the doors."</p><p>     Laila and Toby hugged each other, eyes wet with frantically blinked-back tears.</p><p>     Derek nodded solemnly. "You thought he might have taken your friends' heads already."</p><p>     Toby said grimly, "It's been fourteen days now. They must have barricaded the doors, but there's probably no food, and he... he might have cut off their access to water."</p><p>     "We'll have to hurry and get to him before they get through the doors, then," Derek said firmly, and turned to Matthew with eyes that said he was ready to start right now. The solid strength of him impressed Matthew every time they spoke.</p><p>     Matthew nodded firmly. They ran through their equipment checks again, rehashed the plan and the few contingencies thought of in case things fell through, and broke into their teams to go inside.</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     Walking abreast with Laila and Toby, they felt Alonso Soto as they got close. Then, another impact, and another. After a second, one more. No way to know if that meant only three other Immortals, or Immortals too close together to feel a difference as they were hiding their numbers in careful coordination. As planned, Grace moved to the right of the door, and Matthew to the left. Toby on the right and Laila on the left took each other's hands and opened the door.</p><p>     Soto was already striding towards them, and stopped. "Laila, my dear girl! Toby, my sweet boy!"</p><p>     It might have been a pleasant voice to listen to, if not for the words and what they knew about his proclivities. They used their mirrors to see him without being seen. A blond, florid-faced man inclined to weight, but they could see he carried himself well. His body language towards his two former pets was ambivalent and full of interest.</p><p>     "Welcome home, dears! Where have you been?" There was a false joviality to his tone, they could see his smile was wide and toothy.</p><p>     "We went to the next island, Master," Laila said tremulously. "A demon attacked us! Just as you said! He looked like an ordinary man, but then he came after us. We fled!"</p><p>     Toby took it up, even down to the tremor in his voice. "You must have had a reason for... for Sherry. I don't understand, Master, we're scared."</p><p>     Matthew wondered if they were laying it on too thickly, but could see Soto's body language relaxing slightly, his toothy smile becoming less threatening. "Well, my darlings," he said, "perhaps you can convince the others to open the doors here, then." He gestured behind him. The men with the tools and equipment looked puzzled, but were waiting patiently.</p><p>     Laila, though, asked, "All of them, Master? Cora, Bernard, Harry, Trent, Giselle - "</p><p>     "Alas," he said sorrowfully, "Not all of them. Only Steven and Cora, little Jiang, Tad, and Summer. The rest, I'm afraid, broke faith with me." His voice hardened, "As did you."</p><p>     The two clung together and Laila choked out, "We were scared, but we're back! We believe in you, Master! We'll do anything you say!"</p><p>     The sound of a scuffle broke out, across the room, and Soto wheeled around. Seeing that, Grace and Matthew stepped smoothly into the room and joined Laila and Toby.</p><p>     Ten, the word beat in Matthew's thoughts, and he knew in Grace's. This scum had taken the heads of ten, no, eleven Immortals who had known no true teacher in their lives, long or short. He knew the names of the beheaded from the list Toby and Laila had given him. Bernard, Harry, Martin, Sergio, Trent, Amaya, Delfina, Eglantine, Giselle, and Milena, to be added to Sherry's name.</p><p>     Alonso Soto was staring in astonishment at the four Immortals who had taken down his frightened servants and were now bundling them out of the room. He wheeled around to face Laila and Toby, ready to breath fire at them, only to freeze in shock at the sight of Grace and Matthew at their sides. They could see when he determined to brazen it out.</p><p>     "Who do you think you are, coming onto my property?" he snapped, drawing a military bayonet with a slightly curving blade, the quillon an S guard, early 1900s from the look of it. He swept blade and gaze around as the other four came back into the room and took up guard stances, each drawing their own blades but standing at rest. "Only one to one!" he snarled, waving the tip of his blade threateningly. Then he focused on Toby, ignoring Laila. "I'll take your head, Toby." He took a few steps back and to his left, eyes glittering.</p><p>     Matthew stepped in front of the younger Immortals. "No, you won't. You'll fight me."</p><p>     Soto's eyes narrowed. "I am Alonso Soto," he barked angrily.</p><p>     Leaning again on his beloved Southern drawl, "Matthew McCormick."</p><p>     "Grace Chandel."</p><p>     "Derek Worth."</p><p>     "Michelle Webster."</p><p>     "Amanda."</p><p>     "Cory Raines!"</p><p>     "At least I'll know what to put on your headstones," Soto snarled, and with his left hand tapped something in his pocket.</p><p>     The room erupted in gunfire.</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     Matthew tucked and rolled, even as bullets riddled him. He had no chance to be aware of what was happening with the others, but came to a halt in a sea of pain, feeling himself bleeding out as the shooting died down. He could hear Soto laughing. Footsteps, impacting the floor in arrogant strides, coming towards himself. He began to martial his strength. He was only wounded. Badly wounded, and might even die before he would heal, but he was not entirely incapacitated.</p><p>     Then gunfire started again, this time from the door they had come through. He heard Soto give a shout of shocked surprise, heard a body hit the floor.</p><p>     And then other footsteps. Not the arrogant stride of a monster, but another familiar stride. Footsteps that stopped twice before continuing towards him. He strove to keep conscious. Time was short. "Rafe," he managed to choke out.</p><p>     "Carl!" Raphael was at his side, hands carefully probing to check the extent of his injuries. "Carl, damnit man, why did you bring them?"</p><p>     Ah, of course. Rafe had checked Laila's, Toby's, and Grace's bodies on his way over. "Soto," Matthew grated out. "Wearing vest," he managed.</p><p>     Rafe snorted, "He's a bloody mess, Carl," he reprimanded. "If you weren't dying, I'd rip you a new one. You got those kids killed!"</p><p>     They'll be back, thought Matthew. So will Soto, and Grace. You're in danger. He uttered a weak, coughing laugh. "Your team?"</p><p>     "Came on my own. I owed you that. Regretting it now." Rafe tousled Matthew's hair in rough affectionate frustration. Then he froze with a startled gasp.</p><p>     Matthew prayed it was one of his. Anyone except Soto.</p><p>     No such luck. It was Soto, and he ran Raphael through while the FBI agent was still too stunned to react quickly. "You're next!" Soto snarled. Matthew looked up at him, struggling to get moving despite the damage he had taken. Soto was raising his bayonet to behead Raphael when a small, bloody blur collided with him.</p><p>     It was Grace.</p><p>     He thought he heard her stiletto puncturing Soto's flesh. Soto managed to push her away from him. Before Matthew could get to his knees, though, Raphael suddenly heaved himself up, wrenched the startled Soto's bayonet from his hands, and beheaded him.</p><p>     As Raphael collapsed at his side, and Soto's body toppled at Grace's feet, they stared at each other. Grace started to speak, but her voice turned into a squeak as the Quickening rose like a mist from Soto's body and began to climb her legs. She looked at Matthew in horror.</p><p>     Of course. Grace was the nearest awakened Immortal to Soto at the beheading. It was going to her.</p><p>     The others were coming back from their deaths, all sitting up to watch with some awe as the Quickening formed an inverted cone, perhaps in response to Grace's will, for she had fallen to one knee, back curling down, arms flung up above the small of her back in a way that made him think of Atlas holding up the sky. Plaster and ceiling tile rained down, and he was sure in the roar he heard glass cracking, but not breaking. The door behind which five other Immortals were supposed to be was ripped from its hinges.</p><p>     The Quickening came to an end. Raphael uttered a moan of confused pain from beside Matthew as Grace collapsed in a boneless heap.</p><p>     Matthew made the only choice he really could. He started examining Rafe. It was a relief to see that the wounds were bad enough to kill his friend, and soon. There was no need to wrestle with his conscience. His own wounds were knitting happily, the bullets still in his body were being disintegrated by his Quickening.</p><p>     "Doctor Garibaldi?" Rafe whispered weakly.</p><p>     "She's fine, Rafe," Matthew said gently, making him comfortable. Rafe managed a slight nod. He was fading fast.</p><p>     "Not possible," he said, though.</p><p>     "We'll talk about that."</p><p>     "Liar," Rafe managed. Then he died.</p><p>     Matthew carefully stroked Rafe's eyelids down and felt a laugh beginning to bubble in him. "Good thing you'll be back. That'd be a ridiculous last word."</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     Rafael Domingo took his death and resurrection in stride. Matthew and Grace explained about his immorality, about the Game, the Gathering, Holy Ground, and the rules good Immortals at least tried to live by. Those were not as easy for him to take in stride. That the youngest of the seven teenagers they had rescued was actually at least eight years older than he. That Michelle and Derek were about his age. They were able, as Cory joked, to let him back into the wild, no one in the FBI the wiser to Rafe's new status. Rafe at first could not quite seem to decide where he stood, but finally came down on being amused by Matthew McCormick being alive and well, and young. They quietly swore to each other to continue being partners.</p><p>     Amanda, Cory, Derek, and Michelle had a more challenging job talking to the five starved Immortals. It helped that they loved Toby and Laila. In the end, the four of them took on the task of taking the seven to learn and live as long as they could, however much time they had left.</p><p>     Matthew asked to visit Grace's mission on the neighboring island, and she smiled and invited him warmly.</p><p>     They had destroyed Alonso Soto's office, but Grace had taken his journals with her. They were in a very simple code. All that was needed was the knowledge of Immortality, and you knew what he had written about. Toby was the first newborn Immortal Soto had found during his breeding program, on December 26, 1924. He had left twelve babies in boxes exposed to the elements for five days, come back and found nine dead, and an extra baby crying weakly next to one of the boxes. That pattern had continued for all of the other seventeen Immortals.</p><p>     Grace sat in her office, reading the journals on and off. They were well-organized, and the last one was full of outrage and an increasing paranoia as the years passed, and Soto had found no more newborns. The early journals had been full of optimism, and an unfortunately increasingly obvious corruption. The bombing of Pearl Harbor had infuriated him, and in a fit of rage he killed Toby, Sergio, and Trent on December 8, 1941. Cora and Delfina he had given a few more years, having decided that age sixteen was perfect for the rest of his harem.</p><p>     And then came 2020. On June 1, having watched the news and gotten infuriated by the politics, he took Sherry, the youngest of his Immortals, and beheaded her. Then, finding that Toby and Laila had disappeared, he took the heads of the next three born in the 70s. Craftily, he had manipulated the others into thinking they were safe because he had kept them alive for so much longer than those four. He poisoned them, but Cora, Tan, Summer, Jiang, and Steven had proven hardy enough that they managed to get into their quarters and barricade the doors and windows while he was taking the others' Quickenings.</p><p>     Grace closed the journal and set it on top of the others. Those poor, ignorant children. No matter the decades that passed, their growth as Immortals and human beings had been severely stunted. This island, next to the one where they had spent their whole lives, could never have been the place for them. As much as she hated the Game, she could not keep them out of it. They would never be strong and capable with her as teacher, for she could not bear to teach them to murder to survive.</p><p>     Another Immortal came into her range. She knew it was Matthew, even as a small part of her acknowledged there was always a chance it was at best a stranger, at worst an enemy.</p><p>     A knock at the door, his voice saying gently, "It's Matthew."</p><p>     "Come in," she called, smiling and blinking away the tears that had started to fill her eyes.</p><p>     He stepped into the room and nodded toward the journals. "Interesting reading?"</p><p>     "Sickening," she replied succinctly.</p><p>     He reached out and took her left hand in both of his. "Grace Chandel, would you do me the honor of sharing my bed tonight?"</p><p>     She was so startled she gaped at him. He waited, regarding her with a wistful yearning that she both appreciated and marveled at.</p><p>     "I thought you hated me."</p><p>     "I was wrong." He released her hand and pulled the other chair in the room over to sit on it in front of her. "I was wrong to blame you. I was wrong about everything." He met her eyes solemnly. "You have the courage of your convictions. You are extraordinary, and I would very much like to make love to you."</p><p>     <br/>
</p><p>     She led him into her bedroom, glanced around it with a bemused smile before turning that smile up to him. He was about ten inches taller, and tried not to loom but she did not mind. She reached up, fascinated, and caressed his jaw, smiling at the rough texture of his five o'clock shadow. He smelled good, and his hands massaged her shoulders as she unbuttoned his shirt, brushing his exposed skin with her lips. He managed with a gentle sweep to get her blouse off between kisses, dancing his fingers down her sides and trailing them around her waist. They both swayed a moment, as she slipped his shirt off and then pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his chest and they paused to hold each other for a while.</p><p>     She smelled like gardenias, he thought. She tasted sweet. It suited her, and as their explorations of each other went on, he was surprised and delighted, and tried his best to give to her the same utter respect she gave to him.</p><p>     Afterwards, pleasantly exhausted, they lay together, he on the wall-side, she relaxed completely on his left. His right hand held her left, as his left shoulder was under her head.</p><p>     Before dozing off, he said quietly, "I don't know how long we have left."</p><p>     "A lifetime, perhaps," she responded, and kissed his shoulder. "Perhaps until the last of us reach their time."</p><p>     "I want you to live," he said softly.</p><p>     "As long as I can," she replied.</p><p>     They drifted off to sleep.</p>
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